


Budapest

by RangerKimmy



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Backstory, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 12:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RangerKimmy/pseuds/RangerKimmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You and I remember Budapest very differently," Clint said during the battle against the Chitauri and Loki. So... what part of it do you remember, Clint?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Budapest

**Author's Note:**

> Hrk. Okay, first serious R18 content I've written, and also the first time I have ever written anything for anyone in The Avengers outside of Tony Stark and Loki. So forgive all the mistakes this is probably littered with.

            Hot summer air drifted in through the open window, rustling the thin, musty curtains. The waning moon stared down at the sleeping city, illuminating the empty streets and creeping through the window, casting eerie shadows on the bed and the entwined creatures writhing upon it.

            His back gleaned with sweat, he arched over her and breathing deeply, heavily, gasping. Fisting the sheets on either side of her body, he kept his head bent in concentration and worked on just keeping himself sane as the rhythm of their movements caused the rickety bed to creak constantly, resounding loudly in his ears. He grunted, feeling her bucking beneath him and fighting the dominance he hung over her.

            Each time she arched her back, a sliver of moonlight exposed to him her breasts, round and wet and bouncing in time to the grinding of his hips. A lock of her red hair was pressed on her forehead, matted down by the sweat beading up on her skin, and another small strand was stuck to the corner of her mouth, held there as she bit her lip to contain the moans and mewls escaping her throat. Her arms were around his neck, she hanging on for dear life as he pressed her further and further down into the mattress.

            She threw her head back as she at last gave up all hope of restraining herself, and emitted a loud, lusty moan that nearly sent him over the edge. He pulled back long enough to break her grip on his neck, to turn her on her side, pick up one of her legs, and sling it over his shoulder, before once again thrusting passionately within her. She clawed at the sheets, panted, but never looked at him. They had not made eye contact, not once, and he longed to see the green in her eyes, wild with desire.

“Clint,” she suddenly gasped, and he groaned at the sound of his name snaking its way between her clenched teeth. “Clint, please, I can’t— _oh_.”

He increased his pace, turning his head to kiss the damp skin of the leg resting on his shoulder. He could feel it coming now, feel the pressure building up, the need for release—

“Romanov,” he gasped, “Romanov, I’m—”

“Tasha,” she cried. “Call me Tasha, Clint, ah, oh _god_ —”

“Look at me, Tasha,” he said between breaths, “Tasha. _Tasha_.”

She turned her head then, and stared into his eyes. The lust burning within them was too much, and with a loud groan and— “ _Tasha_.”—he came within her, and felt her insides tighten around him as the hard thrusts drove her to her own climax. She cried out, loudly, gripping the sheets so hard she could have torn the cheap fabric, and gasped his name repeatedly, quietly, as she pushed herself against him while her body convulsed with the orgasm. With a deep sigh, he picked her leg up off his shoulder and rested it down beside him on the bed.

She rolled over onto her stomach, clutching a pillow and burying her face into it, and pressed her legs together as she sighed deeply. Weary, he slowly laid down beside her, running his fingers gently down the curve of her back. Shivering, she turned her face to look at him. He studied her for a moment, searching, contemplating. Removing his hand from her back, he reached up to brush the hair off her forehead and tuck it behind her ear. Her eyelids fluttered briefly as he let his hand rest on the side of her face, and she turned to press herself against him, entwining her legs with his and looking boldly up at him with her eyebrows arched. There were those green eyes again, looking straight into his, inviting him in. He guided his hand to the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her soft red curls, and pulled her face toward his. He kissed her, slowly, relishing the quiet sighs between them. She put her hands against his chest, and he felt them moving downward, downward… Breaking away, he rested his forehead against hers, felt her fingers tracing his side, her nails teasing the flesh. He dropped a kiss on her lips, her jawline, her neck, as she slid her hands around his newly erect member and he became acutely aware of a flame sparking to life once more—

~

            Clint awoke suddenly at the sound of his phone going off, and sat up with a disgruntled sigh. He reached over to the bedside table to pick up the cell and answer it. “Yeah?”

            “Clint.” The feminine voice on the other side of the phone made him dizzy. “…Clint?”

“Yeah, Tasha, I’m here.”

“Coulson’s calling us in. We have a job to do with Stark. Meet outside Grand Central Station at ten. He’ll take us from there.”

Clint passed a hand over his forehead and grimaced at the sweat that was there. His throat felt dry, his head felt light, and worse, his lower half was more awake than the rest of him.

“…Clint? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, fine,” he replied. “Just… had a long night. Didn’t sleep well.”

“Why?” She inquired.

Clint heaved himself up out of bed and crossed the room to look out the window at the busy city beyond. “Crazy dream that stirred up old memories.”

“Oh? Of what?”

He smiled. Almost hesitated.

“Budapest.”


End file.
